Wings of a Dove (50 page)

    Raising her hand to her throat, Allie unconsciously fingered the outline of the chain and medal concealed beneath the cotton fabric of her dress. Her mind reverted inevitably to the hard, sullen boy who had given her back the gift of faith.

    Clutching the medal tightly, Allie was unable to suppress the memory of the man that boy had become, and the solemnity of the moment when he had placed the chain around her neck. She remembered the love she had felt for him, the beauty, the fulfillment of the intimate moments they shared. She remembered the commitment she had read into the act that had joined their bodies…

    Unable to bear the pain of the memories that followed, Allie closed her eyes to the shadowed landscape, her fingers whitening around the silver disk, but she was allowed no respite from their assault. The image she had sought to banish from her mind    emerged bright and clear, translucent eyes appearing to see into her soul. She saw again, burning in their crystal depths, the love she had once believed was so firm and true. It seared her.

    A small movement at her side brought Allie back to the present. She turned toward Margaret's sleeping form and leaned closer to pull the blanket up more firmly around her. Love for her small pale-haired child welled within her. No matter the course her life had taken after that night, this child had been conceived in love, for she had loved Delaney deeply. She supposed a part of her would always love him, and a part of her would always be grateful that Margaret was Delaney's child.

    But Allie was intensely aware that the small, frightened girl who had traveled these rails to an unknown destiny so many years ago no longer existed. She was now a woman, a wife, and a mother. The past was dead. There was only the future, toward which this train raced through the long, sleepless hours of night.

Chapter Nineteen

    "Really, Sybil, do you think this is wise?"

    Sybil Davidson's response was a flirtatious, heavy-lidded glance that left no question as to the reason for her unexpected appearance on Dearborn Street, a short distance from the
Tribune
building. She stepped up beside Delaney and tucked her hand under his arm. She assumed his pace as he continued walking, pressing herself tightly to his side. She felt Delaney's muscled thigh brush against her skirt as his elbow lightly touched the full outer curve of her breast, and her smile broadened. She thoroughly enjoyed the calculated seduction she practiced, which had been successful in drawing Delaney to her despite his early reservations. She knew she needed to keep him intrigued and challenged to maintain his interest, and she worked diligently at doing just that. She also knew her audacity in appearing unexpectedly and openly attaching herself to his arm amused him despite his comment.

    "Delaney you're a cad. How dare you seduce me with your gaze in full daylight, right here in view of passing traffic?"

    Delaney's knowing glance was a silent refutation. "Who's seducing whom, Sybil? I'd say it's more than coincidence that you    decided to take a casual stroll along Dearborn Street at noon when I usually emerge from the office for my midday meal. The only problem is, I'm going into the building today, not coming out."

    "Well, that's fine with me. I'll go inside with you."

    "Oh, no, you won't!"

    "Delaney, darling, we have to talk!"

    "Oh, is talking what you had in mind for this afternoon, Sybil?"

    Sybil cast Delaney a confident, knowing glance. She looked her alluring best in her forest-green walking-out suit, and she knew it. The tight, narrow waist of the garment made the most of her womanly curves, and the modified bustle was just flirtatious enough to draw attention. Her fashionable Rembrandt hat, ornamented with fluttering ostrich feathers, was cocked jauntily to one side, calling attention to the soft blue of her eyes. She knew Delaney appreciated every aspect of her appearance, and that realization increased her temerity.

    "Well, I thought we'd talk… among other things."

    Delaney's low, husky laugh shot a thrill up Sybil's spine.

    "You're a temptation, Sybil."

    "Where shall we go?"

    "I'm going upstairs to work."

    "You're being tedious, Delaney. I'm very serious when I say I must speak with you. Father was very angry after your interview with him several days ago. You know, of course, you handled him all wrong. If you had mentioned your interview to me, I could've helped you to"

    "I don't need your help." Delaney's gaze was as cool as his voice. "And I don't want it."

    Anger tightened Sybil's lips. "Father is determined not to speak to you again. As a matter of fact, if he has his way, he'll"

    "I'm not worried about your father."

    "Well, perhaps you should be!"

    Realizing she was pushing too hard, Sybil swallowed her words and attempted another tack. "Delaney, don't look at me that way. You make me quite upset. If you don't want my help"

    "Your interference"

    "Whatever you choose to call my desire to help you in dealing    with my difficult father, I'll certainly let you struggle on alone. I would much prefer that the two of you get along well, but''

    "What possible difference could it make to you if your father and I get along or not?"

    Delaney was obviously baiting her, waiting to spring on her response, but Sybil was not about to accommodate him. Realizing their conversation was drawing stares, Sybil managed a coy smile as they drew up alongside the entrance to the
Tribune
building.

    "I repeat, you're a cad, Delaney Marsh, and I can see this particular conversation has come to an end. And since part of my reason for being here today has been accomplished, only the other part remains." Pausing, Sybil gave Delaney a slow wink.

    Delaney considered Sybil's statement for long, silent moments, the ice in his gaze melting slowly. "I have to take care of a few things for the late edition."

    "I'm free this afternoon, and I really don't mind waiting, darling, provided the reward is suitable."

    Another pause. Appearing suddenly to have made a decision, Delaney nodded. "It shouldn't take long, and then I'll be free for a few hours."

    "Only a few hours?" Sybil held his gaze, sliding her small, pink tongue tantalizingly along her bottom lip. "I was hoping we might spend the rest of the day together. As a matter of fact, I've come up with some rather clever innovations in the ways we might"

    Contrary to her expectations, Delaney did not smile. "You'll do anything to get your way, won't you, Sybil?"

    Deciding to brazen it out, Sybil fluttered her heavy fringe of lashes as she responded softly, "Anything."

    The smile that finally touched Delaney's lips was cool. "So will I."

    Drawing open the door, Delaney ushered Sybil inside.

    The monotonous click of the rails continued in rhythm with the car's jolting sway as the sun-drenched prairie flowed past the train window. Civilization was beginning to make inroads into the panorama stretching out before her eyes when an unexpected sense of anticipation began to temper Allie's anxiety. She glanced toward the seat beside her where Margaret gazed intently out    the window, realizing her mixed feelings were influenced by the excitement in her daughter's expression as their journey neared its end.

    "Mama, look! I think I can see Chicago! It's a big city, isn't it?" Apprehension flickered momentarily in her daughter's dark eyes as she continued, "But Papa said the place we're going to stay is nice and cozy. Papa said that the time will pass so quickly that I'll have to think really hard to remember it."

    Allie nodded. Margaret's attention had already returned to the passing landscape, and she did not really expect a response. But Chicago was not as close as Margaret thought. Judging from the conversations she had overheard, they had at least another hour's traveling time.

    Restless, Allie glanced around her. The car had been nearly empty when Margaret and she had boarded, but almost every seat was now filled. Her eyes lightly scanning the passengers, Allie noted that there were only a few other children in the car, and each of them appeared to be part of a large family. The other passengers looked like businessmen and frequent travelers, judging from their bored expressions. One short, slim fellow with a bright face and quick smile seemed to be a drummer, for he kept his sample case within reach when he engaged a fellow passenger in conversation. Allie guessed that he was a frequent traveler on this line for he had spoken quite knowledgeably to his seatmate about the area through which they were passing.

    Her gaze returning to the passing landscape, Allie heard the familiar voice of the drummer as he engaged another passenger in conversation. He had an enthusiastic voice that distracted her mind, and she was grateful for the diversion. Smiling despite herself, Allie realized her eavesdropping was allowing her an insight into the problems the city of Chicago faced because of its rapid growth. Poor construction was one problem. Some of the larger buildings had been slapped together so quickly that bricks often fell into the streets from the facades, injuring pedestrians. Inadequate housing was another, and many immigrants were forced to live in slums. And then there was

    The drummer's monologue ended with an unexpected gasp, and Allie glanced in his direction. The fellow had pulled himself upright in his seat and was staring out the window toward the     curve of track ahead of them. He was tense, his expression incredulous.

    "What the hell…? Look! There's a train coming around the curve!" His voice cracking, the fellow crouched forward to stare more intently before exclaiming, "It's on the same track we're on! It's coming straight at us!"

    The screech of the train's whistle was simultaneous with the grinding of braking wheels that threw passengers forward in their seats, knocking others to the floor into a melee of dislodged packages, tangled limbs, and cries of pain. Thrown into the aisle, Allie scrambled to reach Margaret even as realization turned to terror in her mind. The train's shrieking whistle again rent the air only to be echoed by a helpless response from the approaching train in the few seconds before the world exploded in a jolting, tumbling crash of tearing metal, agonized screams, and then… merciful darkness.

    The light tapping of Sybil's foot again interrupted his concentration, and Delaney, totally disgusted, slid a weary hand over his eyes and attempted to maintain his control. Sybil and he had entered the office an hour before, and the few details, which should have taken no more than fifteen minutes to finish, had become a monumental task because of the burden of her presence. He had been a fool to think that Sybil would conduct herself in a mature manner and allow him to work in peace, but he was fully aware that he had no one to blame for his aggravation but himself.

    Casting a glance around the city room, Delaney noted that Sybil's presence had finally been accepted for the most part and the curious whispers and craning of necks had stopped. The admiring glances had also ceased, at least temporarily. He should have anticipated that his appearance with Sybil Davidson on his arm would cause a stir, but he had expected a more professional attitude from his contemporaries. His mistake apparently had been in neglecting to take into consideration that his co-workers were mainly male and only human. Sybil was a beautiful woman who made the most of her physical assets. Her clothes were expensive and eye-catching and her proportions were perfect. She turned heads on the street, and had nearly snapped necks in this office.

    He suspected the impact of Sybil's presence was not entirely due to her physical appearance, however. The fact that she was immediately recognized as Otis Davidson's only daughter, and that the bad blood between that snobbish boor and Delaney himself was well known, probably had played a large part in the attention paid to her entrance.

    Delaney was surprised at Sybil's desire to bring their association into the open at such an unpropitious time, but the consequences mattered very little to him, since he would not be the one to suffer them. As for Sybil, he had no doubt that there was method to her madness. There usually was. But he also had hidden motives for associating with her, and he was too smart to fall into any of her traps. He would have been a fool to refuse her lascivious invitation, wouldn't he?

    Wrong.

    Sybil made that realization only too obvious to him the moment she entered the busy
Tribune
office, disrupting it with her flirtatious glances and coy remarks and playing the gaping young men against one another as they fought for a better view or another smile. When attention to her began to wane, she became bored and took to annoying demonstrations of her boredom, ranging from subtle yawns and drumming fingers to tapping toes, which were about to drive him crazy.

    It was also obvious that Mulrooney was not pleased.

    Casting a glance toward the glowering editor's office, he saw Mulrooney rise to his feet. It was apparent from his expression that he did not intend to wait a minute longer for Delaney to finish the piece he needed for the next edition. Opening the door of his office with a jerk that set the glass panel to wobbling, Mulrooney started heavily in Delaney's direction, only to be stopped as a copyboy pushed a slip of paper into his hands. Taking only a moment to read the message, he continued on toward Delaney's desk. "You have the damnedest luck, Marsh."

    Delaney drew himself to his feet as Mulrooney thrust the slip of paper into his hand. His gaze dropped to the printed lines as the agitated editor continued, disapproval apparent in his tone. "It looks like you're going to be spared my opinion of your judgment in bringing a visitor into the office when there's work to be done. This wire says there's been a train wreck just outside the city a bad one. It's your baby, and I want comprehensive  coverage, Marsh. I want to know the reason two trains were moving at full speed in opposite directions on the same track. I want to know the extent of the damage, the number of casualties deaths and injuries. I want to know the kind of response received from emergency services. I want human interest stories. I want to hear about the heroes and the villains, and I want to be able to feel the pain, Delaney. I'll send some other men later on, but I'm depending on you to coordinate the effort and get me the story first. Now get moving before every hack in the city is gone!"

    Reaching for his hat, Delaney had taken his first step toward the door when an exasperated protest sounded behind him.

    "Delaney, you aren't going! What about me!"

    Realizing he had forgotten all about Sybil, Delaney turned to frown into her incredulous expression.

    "Another time, Sybil. Scott…?" A red-haired young man a short distance away turned at Delaney's summons. "Would you see to it that Miss Davidson gets home?"

    "Delaney!"

    "I'm sorry, Sybil."

    Sybil's astonished gasp sounded behind him as Delaney slipped the wire into his pocket, jammed his hat onto his head, and started for the door. It occurred to him as his footsteps echoed his speedy descent down the staircase that in leaving Sybil behind he experienced no regret at all.

    He hadn't seen anything like this since the war.

    Frowning into the choking black smoke spiraling upward from several burning rail cars, Delaney strained to see as he picked his way through the wreckage of the colliding trains. Only two cars were still upright. The others were strewn like broken matches along the tracks. Wounded and dead passengers were scattered amid the debris, impeding the progress of fire fighters. Several more ambulances arrived, but their number was still pitifully inadequate. Confusion abounded, further hindering the rescue process as fires continued out of control and the cries of the wounded grew louder.

    An apparent switching error had caused the two trains traveling at top speed to meet head on with enough impact to wreak almost total devastation. A fire had erupted in one of the cars and strong prairie winds had quickly spread the blaze, complicating the rescue efforts. The situation was so dire that after arriving at the scene, Delaney had taken only the time to record a quick summary of the situation before sending his notes back to the
Tribune
with a copy boy. He had then jammed his pencil and notebook into his pocket and joined the rescue effort. In the time since, Delaney's fedora had gone the way of his stiff collar and cravat and his jacket had disappeared across the chest of a badly injured man in his total absorption in aiding the wounded.